Boxers Novels & Stories

She nodded. In minutes we got there. The room was filled with bodybuilders, slim fitness models and some seriously built men. Drent went to change into his gear while I stood there taking in the whole space. A picture of Roosevelt the Great hung on the wall. One of the greatest boxers of all time, and honestly my all-time favourite. He had inspired me to pursue boxing. Watching him do what he did despite every disadvantage made me fall in love with the sport. But unfortunately for me, Coach Peterson and the entire establishment around him had no interest in seeing women box.

Just a man trying to beat his demons out of his own body. “How long are you going to stand there watching me like a guard nobody hired?” His rhythm never broke. His fists kept landing clean. “Long enough to notice you missed a beat in that last combination.” His fists stilled. He turned. One eyebrow lifted. “You know boxing.” “I know how to bring something down so it doesn’t get back up. Does that count?” A thin smile cut across his face. He took a pull from his water bottle and gestured at the space around them.

This boxing match was truly thrilling. "He's going to lose. The man in blue is completely wiped out," someone quipped. The red boxer was a Mostovian man, Andrew Johnson. He was about six feet and two inches tall. The man in blue was a Cryonian man, Leonard Wales, who was around five feet and a half. Andrew said with a smug expression, "You're a loser!" He had moved from Mostovia to Cryona for some time. Yet, the Cryonian boxers were all weaklings to him. There was no one in Cryona who could match him.

gone? Another punch, but this time to my gut. A grunt escapes me, and I bunch over, my arms circling around myself. Then a leg comes between mine, knocking me to the ground. Ford? My eyes collide with him, when another punch lands my eye. From fucking Ford. "You fucking coward" i snap, shoving him off me. He falls easily, not in the mood to fight me now. I push up to a sitting position, but then Adam is pushing me down, his foot against my chest.

With a barrel chest, dusted with dark hair, and a big, strong belly. I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear, fighting the urge to fan my cheeks. So many boxers are showmen. They play up to the crowd, they talk shit and try to psyche each other out, but not Pierro. He frowns straight ahead, quiet and focused, as his challenger peacocks on the other side of the ring. He's fighting an Irishman called Anderson, a younger man who made headlines with his shocking wins the last few months, but I'm not worried.

Richard's POV: Friday night arrived, and I was at the boxing center, getting ready to support my friend, Morgan Kingston, as he was preparing for the boxing match against the next opponent. Morgan was standing in the changing room, wearing his safety gear. His mouthguard to protect his teeth, gums, and jaw from impact. His headgear for protection of his head and face from punches and potential cuts or injuries (often used in amateur or sparring situations). He also wore padded gloves to protect both his hands and their opponent's face from injury. His hand wraps were for support and protecting his hands and wrists from sprains or fractures. Finally, he had his cup, which was a protective gea

she pointed to the ring and I saw a shirtless Noah with silk long boxers, he had a boxing gloves on his fist as he bounces up and down. •The game is about to start, fighters step closer• everyone started to cheer and scream 'Noah' I smiled. •you ready?• the ref asked Noah, Noah nods his head. •you ready?• he asked the other guy• he nodded.• three, two one, fight• the ref said before stepping out of the way. The other guy started to attack but Noah was able to block him by joining his hands together to cover his face. Don't get me wrong, I don't know anything about boxing. They were both wearing something like a braces on their teeth but it not braces though.

Ride Tonight was the annual boxing match, something the guys did to let off some steam, the Adams-Anderson lot was filled with more bikes than normal due to the neighboring charters coming down. The fighting hadn’t even begun, yet the air smelled like sweat and testosterone. It was kind of a turn-on. “Y/N Hunny can you take that box of beers outside for me,” Alice asked nodded at the box she was talking about. “Yeah sure,” you smiled grabbing the box off the bar.

“But I promise you will be.” I punched him in the face and felt the bones in his nose break under my knuckles. He screamed, blood oozing from his nostrils. I leaned over him again, punching his face harder, savoring the crack of bone under my fist. His screams filled the night and I basked in his terror. My fists dripped red as the fucker wailed like a dying beast. A gust of wind stirred the trash littering the alley. The sweet-spicy scent of an omega blooming into heat tickled my nose, and I paused mid-punch.

Two new boxers enter the ring. An announcer calls their fake names big and brightly. The onlookers mill around at once, exchanging money, making bets. “His grandfather wouldn’t approve of him being a boxer, even you said that,” I pointed out. “Why would his grandfather pressure him to do this?”